by Hondo Jinx
Slowly and steadily, he entered her, filling Shrike inch by inch, spreading her channel, which tightened around him with uncanny strength.
Man! Yes, Man! Yes!
I’m glad we’re doing this, darlin. I’m glad we’re bonding. I want you. And I want you here with me and my women forever. I want to seed you, and I want you to have my babies.
Shrike moaned, and her muscular walls undulated, milking his full length.
We will make strong babies, he told her, pulling back until he almost popped free.
Then he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt, and told her, Our babies will eat the babies of our enemies.
And just like that, Shrike was flailing and crying out, bucking as she climaxed after only the second pump, apparently driven over the edge by the notion of their babies reigning supreme.
Whatever the case, her sudden and unexpected orgasm surprised and delighted him. There is a matter of conditioning in such moments. If you are used to climaxing simultaneously with your lovers, a woman’s orgasm will haul you straight toward ecstasy with shocking speed.
And the next thing Braddock knew, as he stood there pounding the bound, climaxing bird woman, he was rushing to join her.
That’s when the trouble started.
With an earsplitting shriek, Shrike reared back, snapping her bonds.
Chundra and the girls cried out, scrambling to grab their weapons.
“No!” Braddock bellowed, still pumping away in the thrashing woman. “I have this!”
Shrike’s wings broke free of their restraints and beat powerfully as this woman, who was strong enough to yank a bear into the sky, lifted from the table, howling like a demoness.
But Braddock pushed his hand into her back between her thrashing wings and, coursing with meadow prowess, slammed her back down onto the table, which broke beneath them.
Shrike fell to floor, crying out with murderous rage as he followed her down.
She jerked and bucked, trying to break free, driven by nature to try to kill him, but Braddock rode her tight, flattening his upper body against her back, gripping her white hair in his fists, and pounding away with powerful thrusts that pinned her to the wreckage of the table and chopping her wild cry of rage into a bumpy cry that would have been funny if she wasn’t trying so hard to end his life.
He heard her beak clacking savagely beneath him but held her head firmly in place even as her hands reached back and squeezed at his wrists like twin vises.
Braddock pumped all the faster.
Fight all you want, he told her. I’m stronger than you. I’m going to seed you, and you’re going to have my babies, and they are going to rule the wilderness!
Then, even as she continued to attempt murder, Shrike cried out with a powerful orgasm.
And it pitched Braddock over the top.
His bellow joined her cry, and now he was bucking, too, glowing with power as he pumped her womb full of hot seed that made her climax again, then lowered her into a murmuring and contented bliss.
Panting against her, Braddock released Shrike’s hair, and when she turned her face to him, there was no beak, only a beauty visage shining with an almost human joy of which he would not have thought her capable.
Thank you, Man, her voice cooed in his mind. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
42
A hundred yards from the northern tree line, Shrike gave a pitiful, warbling cry. She lay like a broken bird out in the open meadow.
A second later, the mad caterwauling of the woolly dragon answered, shaking the forest.
The monster was coming for her.
Braddock was hunkered down in the northeastern corner of the meadow. He had the Henry leveled across the boulder he was using for cover.
Everyone else was in position.
Come on, Braddock thought, panning his gaze across the forest.
He was going to settle the woolly dragon’s hash for good. Yes, the thing had nearly killed him, but this wasn’t an act of vengeance.
He was going to protect his stock and people.
These were lean times. What game there was belonged to Braddock, and he was willing to fight over meat.
Additionally, there was a matter of territory at stake. This was Braddock’s meadow. The dragon wasn’t allowed.
More caterwauling split the frigid air. It was so close and so loud, it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
And yet Braddock still saw no sign of the beast.
Shrike gave another cry and flopped across the open ground, dragging one wing.
And then, abruptly, Braddock saw it.
How the woolly dragon had slipped unseen to within fifty yards of the tree line, he would never know, but that’s exactly what it had done.
And now with a snort, it rushed forward, racing between the big timbers with uncanny speed and glaring at Shrike, who popped into a crouch.
So huge, Braddock thought, swiveling his sights onto the massive head with its gray scales and brown mane. The forest shook as the dragon’s long, muscular body flattened brush and scraped against trees, shaking down sparkling veils of snow.
Despite its size, the thing moved so fast and so jerkily that Braddock wouldn’t risk a shot until it broke from the woods. He wouldn’t risk alerting the creature while merely hitting a tree or wasting a round on the dragon’s heavy armor.
So he waited, and a second later, the beast burst from the tree line with an explosive shriek.
Targeting the dragon’s eye, Braddock pulled the trigger. The Henry boomed, and the dragon’s head jerked a little, but the bullet had missed the eye, and the dragon rushed straight at Shrike.
Braddock worked the lever and fired again.
Another headshot. Another wasted round.
Go, Shrike, go!
With a terrible caterwauling blast, the dragon spread its wings and leapt into the air. Its wingspan was tremendous, easily one hundred and fifty feet. The beast sailed across the meadow with its huge mouth gaping open, ready to feed.
Shrike shot into the air—and not a second too soon. No sooner had she taken flight than the dragon zoomed through the space where she had been. Its jaws snapped so loudly the sound echoed off the trees lining the meadow.
Braddock fired again. The dragon’s face was past him now and at the wrong angle, so he targeted the back of its mane, probing for weakness. His shot revealed none.
The dragon wheeled and locked its fiery gaze on Braddock’s position.
Braddock swung his barrel and fired again.
With a terrible cry, the dragon squinted one eye shut. But it didn’t slow its charge.
Braddock worked the lever but held fire when Shrike dived into the dragon’s back.
With a bloodthirsty scream, the bird woman struck the massive creature’s midsection, but her talons barely scratched the armored body, and the dragon paid her no attention, apparently bent on eating Braddock first.
Braddock tried to lock his sites on the dragon’s good eye, but the monster’s speed and jerky movements made it difficult for Braddock to acquire his target, and before he could get off a shot, he realized he was out of time.
Despite his respect for this monster, he had still misjudged the dragon’s speed and taken too long hunting a shot.
Now the thing was almost on him, the wall of its face rushing toward him, the tremendous jaws opening, eclipsing the world.
Explosions of bright color burst in the dragon’s face as four sprites whizzed past, firing off snapdragons, annoying the beast and buying Braddock a crucial second.
He focused his mind and jumped, just as he’d been practicing with Shrike during the hours since their bonding.
Braddock raced into the air.
The dragon flapped its leathery wings and angled sharply upward, snapping its jaws, but Braddock had jumped just in time, and the terrible teeth slammed shut beneath him.
Flight remained strange and exhilarating and slightly disorienting. But Braddock had practiced enough to
gain decent control over his movement, and he spun, shouldering the rifle, and fired again.
Another bullet ricocheted off the broad gray plates armoring the dragon’s head. Yellow goop drained from between the lids of its closed eye.
The dragon went to the ground, hunched into itself, and gave a hateful cry.
Had it had enough?
Braddock doubted it.
Hovering in forty feet off the ground, he jacked another round into the chamber and fired again.
The shot bounced off the dragon’s snout.
And then, suddenly, the thing exploded, leaping into the air with such remarkable speed that Braddock, new to flight, bobbled for a second, trying to remember how to move.
At the last second, he jerked sideways.
The dragon had sprung at him like a cat trying to snag a low-flying bird.
Braddock’s quick lateral movement evaded the snapping jaws but pitched him into the onrushing wall of the creature’s paw.
He twisted at the last second and almost dodged the blow, but the dragon was too fast.
Its paw banged into his side. One claw snagged his dungarees, sliced across his hip, and sent him spinning away across the meadow toward the trees.
Braddock tried to stop himself but managed only to slow his flight before he back slammed into a hard trunk. The blow snapped a rib and knocked the air from his lungs and dislodged the rifle from his hands.
Even as he fell, Braddock cursed himself for having dropped his primary weapon.
He crashed through the lower branches and hit the ground with a jarring thump. Luckily, the snow softened the impact or he never would have gotten to his feet in time.
The dragon raced toward him, its good eye blazing with malice.
Braddock didn’t have time to jump, so he spun around the tree, got to his feet, and charged into the forest, sprinting between tightly packed timbers.
Behind him, the dragon roared, smashing through trees. The forest floor shook.
Braddock heard the pop-pop-pop of his mistresses’ snapdragons and the lusty shriek of Shrike as she attacked the beast.
Ducking between two huge trees, Braddock hung a hard right and jumped into the air, taking flight. He zipped through the forest, banking hard in a curving arc that hurtled him back to the meadow.
Out in the open again, he rose fifty feet in the air, drew a pistol, and bellowed a challenge to the beast that dared invade his meadow.
His broken rib hurt, but he pushed it from his mind. He didn’t have time for pain now.
He could hear the enraged dragon rushing back toward him.
Braddock glanced south. He was too far from the enclosure to see his home, where he had ordered Elizabeth and the rat folk to hide in the root cellar. He had also commanded Chundra and his people to join them, reasoning that if the dragon made it that far, he would easily dig up the new burrow and devour all the fur folk like a fox in a rabbit warren.
The buckskin and Braddock’s cattle were even farther way, a mile and a half to the south on the lower slope of the meadow. Braddock didn’t want the dragon to startle them into a stampede. If that happened, the buckskin would return to look for him after the threat passed, but he wasn’t certain about the cattle, and he sure didn’t want to lose them.
Besides, he thought it likely, given the connection he now felt to the head bull, that old battler might join the fight. That would mean death to the bull and a tremendous loss to the herd.
So his mustang, stock, and the bulk of his people weren’t visible to him at the moment.
But he could see his wife.
Philia knelt three hundred yards away at the center of the meadow. Within the large dome of shimmering green light surrounding her, everything was as it should be. The snow had melted, and the ground was still raw, a circular patch of churned sod.
Braddock had hoped to avoid the next stage of their defense. He had hoped the rifle might kill the dragon or at least drive it off.
But so far, the dragon had proved even faster and more ferocious than expected. Braddock had managed only to blind one eye. He’d lost the Henry, and the dragon was showing no signs of giving up the fight.
Right on cue, the huge beast burst from the forest and split the air with another caterwauling scream. Spotting Braddock, the dragon trundled into the field, building speed rapidly, then flapped its powerful wings and hopped into the air, rushing toward him.
Braddock shot away across the field toward his wife. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the gliding monster speeding after him.
Two hundred yards away, Philia stood within her green dome.
Braddock could feel his energy waning slightly. Sustained flight was taxing.
When he was one hundred yards from his wife, Braddock bellowed, “Go!”
Philia shot into the air. Beneath her, the green dome wavered.
Braddock dipped lower, racing toward it.
Lower and lower he dropped, twenty feet above the field, fifteen, ten…
The dragon was right behind him, also dipping lower, determined to gobble him up.
Braddock was almost to the dome now.
This was the moment he had trained for, the crucial moment upon which the whole plan hinged, the moment that had to work.
Five feet above the meadow, three, two…
Now!
He hit the ground running and sprinted straight through the shimmering green circle.
Behind him, the dragon trumpeted a triumphant cry, certain it had him at last.
“Now, Doal, now!” Braddock shouted, leaving the thawed circle and shooting once more into the air.
He spun as he took flight, bringing the six-shooter around, and saw the bargle’s stony fist burst from the warmed soil. Doal’s hand closed around the dragon’s rear leg and held tight. The dragon jammed to a bone-jarring stop and slammed to the field on its belly, jerking Doal halfway from the ground.
The dragon screamed with inhuman rage.
Holding the revolver in both hands, Braddock rushed forward, blasting away, pounding the monster’s skull with heavy rounds and blinding its good eye with his final shot.
Which was great news. But Shrike had warned him not to put too much stock into blinding a woolly dragon, since the beasts relied more heavily upon smell and hearing than sight and had a remarkable sixth sense that made them aware of the position of nearby creatures and objects.
As Braddock holstered the empty pistol and drew his other six-shooter, Shrike and the sprites arrived.
The dragon lurched, trying to rush Braddock, but fell again, still locked in Doal’s grip.
Halfway out of the ground, the bargle brought two more arms into action, pounding the dragon’s side with looping hooks. Doal moved slowly, still groggy from hibernation, but his punches thumped into the beast with tremendous force, snapping bones.
The dragon’s long neck whipped around, and its massive jaws snapped down on Doal’s arm like a bear trap. There was a terrible crunching sound.
Braddock saw his chance and rushed forward, firing the pistol.
The dragon had furry ears like a cat’s, and it was into an ear that Braddock directed his shots.
The dragon jerked and screamed, releasing Doal’s arm. Dark blood oozed from holes in the bargle’s stony hide.
Again and again, Braddock fired, but then the revolver was empty.
The handmaidens, joined by Philia, whirled above. Snapdragon after disorienting snapdragon burst in the dragon’s face.
Shrike rushed in for another attack and tore away the tip of one furry ear.
Doal held tight, but the dragon whipped around and threw itself in the opposite direction, hauling the bargle onto the surface.
Doal gave a tired groan but grabbed hold with two hands, covering his stony head with his other arms as the dragon whipped back around and attacked in earnest, biting and scratching and screaming its deafening cry.
The huge creatures were locked together, battling fiercely, but it was clear th
e sleepy bargle was no match for the enraged dragon, whose massive jaws snapped again and again, tearing holes in Doal’s tough hide and making the besieged giant groan with pain and effort.
Despite his pain, Doal yet clung to the dragon’s leg. He would sooner die than surrender the task given him by Philia.
Braddock had to do something. There wasn’t time to run back for the Henry.
He holstered his empty pistol, drew Cleaver, and rushed forward, drawing back the glowing sword.
His boots pounded down among the furry hummocks on the dragon’s spine. He raised the sword overhead in both hands and brought it down on the dragon’s neck.
The dragon screamed and lurched back, pitching Braddock into the air.
Once again surprised by the monster’s speed, Braddock catapulted helplessly up, spinning as he ascended, holding tightly to the sword and trying to get his bearings.
He might have crashed into the ground, but he was struck by the dragon’s beating wings. It was a jarring blow that pitched him higher into the sky, where he oriented himself and surged higher still under his own volition.
The dragon lurched against Doal’s grip, straining to jump at Braddock, and gave an earsplitting shriek, enraged by the deep wound Braddock had made in its muscular flesh.
Braddock hovered, grinning down at the ferocious monster. Cleaver had cut the beast. Bullets bounced off the dragon’s thick armor, but Braddock’s magical sword sliced through them like they were boiled leather, and now the beast was draining blood as black as pitch.
At last, he had a way to hurt this thing.
But he needed to be smart, needed to get close, and needed to strike hard.
Meadow, he called, reaching out. Meadow, I need your power now. Give me strength.
At once, he felt the meadow respond, filling him with power, and a green aura surrounded him.
But then, suddenly, the dragon broke Doal’s hold, pushed off with its powerful legs, and rushed upward, surprising Braddock yet again.
Once more, he barely evaded the huge teeth—and once more, he zipped straight into the path of the dragon’s swatting paw.
No! Shrike’s voice cried, filling Braddock’s head, and her pale body materialized at the last instant. There was a scream, a terrifying jolt, and an explosion of feathers.